Just a Job
by Natalia173
Summary: Mary and Marshall go undercover to protect a witness and to bust a group of gang leaders.


Just another In Plain Sight plot bunny. Enjoy!

**ooOOoo**

Marshall straightened his tie, trying to look the business professional. For once, he had to make sure that his demeanor didn't scream, 'cop.' He slipped a jacket on and looked at himself in the mirror. He was in a full suit and had even forgone the cowboy boots. He was supposed to be a high-powered professional. The Wall Street kind that didn't usually wear cowboy boots, especially not when they were trying to be discreet.

"I don't understand why _I_ can't be the business professional," Mary griped.

"Because no one would believe that I was an escort." Marshall turned around and had a hard time keeping his mouth closed. Mary stood there in a red halter, one that fit her perfectly. It revealed just enough to send his imagination into over-drive.

_Keep it together, Marshall_, he thought. _You're about to go undercover_.

She walked over to him, confident in her four inch heels, shoes that put her almost at his eye level. She stuck her clutch under her arm and adjusted his tie. "It was crooked," she assured him. "And I think that you would make a very good hooker."

"You're a member of an escort service," Marshall reminded her.

"All that translates to is very expensive whore."

"Well, you were the one who insisted on being on this case. In that part of town, any woman who's not trying to get a guy to pay for her is going to stick out like a sore thumb."

"Fine, but let the record show that I don't like it."

"Duly noted. You ready?" he asked.

"I just have to pull my hair up." She easily gathered it into a twist and then clipped it into place. It revealed a long neck, accented by long, sparkling earrings. "Let's go."

**ooOOoo**

"Where the hell is he?" she whispered, knowing that her earpiece would pick it up.

"Impatient tonight, aren't we? It's like you've never been on a stakeout before," Marshall quipped back. He couldn't see her, he was up the block "looking" for a potential mate for the night but he could imagine her pacing the street. It's a good thing she didn't actually have to pick a guy up for a living; with the scowl he was sure she was wearing tonight, no man would come within ten feet of her.

They had been tracking the guy for months, but tonight was the night to catch him. The two Marshals were there to protect the witness that was in there, a spy for the CIA. They had hated the idea of sending the witness in but he had volunteered. Mary agreed to it only if the two of them were there to protect him. The witness' only job was to lead the gang leaders to a nearby building where they could be taken down. This particular gang had managed more than one close call when it came to the president and the CIA wanted to neutralize them quickly. Somehow they had gotten this guy to flip but everyone knew what it meant if he made it out: WITSEC would be his only option. So here Mary was, in a dark alley, dressed like a prostitute, keeping her eye on the building and waiting for Marshall to 'pick her up.' If everything went according to plan, the witness was supposed to lead them into the front of the building, a block over from where Mary was.

"It's like a million mother-humping degrees out here,' she complained. "Thank God this is the kind of dress you can't wear a bra with; I'd be sweating to death in my own underwear." There was silence over her earpiece. "Marshall?"

"I'm trying to get the image of you not wearing underwear out of my head."

"Shut up, Doofus."

Marshall didn't tell her that he wasn't trying to be insulting. The mental image she had provided was a good one but he couldn't take the time to dwell on it. They had to be alert and pay attention to everything. He couldn't afford to be distracted.

"They should be here soon," he said to her. "I'm going to start making my way towards you."

The CIA agents that were nearby barked a few orders over the line, those furthest out on the perimeter saying that they had the target in sight. Marshall rounded the corner and he saw her again. The red dress was even more stunning juxtaposed against the darkness of the alley.

He sauntered up to her, putting on the confidant air that he knew he should have. He was a high-powered executive. He was there to make a business transaction. It just so happened that it was a transaction that involved purchasing a woman. The part that humored him was that the woman whom he was supposed to be paying for was one that could never be bought.

"How does one even pick up a hooker?" Marshall asked when he was near her. "I mean, am I supposed to say something cheesy like, 'Hey, got any plans for tonight.'"

"I think I'm supposed to say something to you. A thousand dollars for the night."

"I wouldn't pay a thousand for you."

"Hey!"

"You're worth about a million bucks."

"God, that was so cheesy. No self-respecting prostitute would ever sleep with you."

_Suspect is nearing 3__rd__ and Belair_, their earpieces sputtered. _Getting reading to turn the corner._

"Did he just say what I think he said," Mary asked.

"You mean that they're about to come around that corner and spot the two of us here."

"Jesus, I thought they were supposed to be the next street down! They're not supposed to see us!"

"And if that witness does, he'll give us away," Marshall said, looking around for a place to hide. "He's barely holding it together for this sting."

"What the fuck are we going to do?"

Marshall was at a loss. The suspects would be there in seconds and there was nothing to hide them from sight in the alley. All that was around was a slightly shadowed doorway. _Turning the corner now, onto 3__rd__, _came the warning. Marshall grabbed Mary and pushed her into the doorway, back pressed against the cool wood. Before she could say anything, he brought his lips down on hers, hiding their faces from the approaching party.

What he didn't expect was for Mary to take it one step further. She wrapped her arms around his neck, further hiding their faces, and pressed her body against him. He lifted her slightly and she wrapped her legs around his torso, Marshall and the door being the only thing holding her up. His hands slid up her sides where he, indeed, discovered that she wasn't wearing a bra. Mary's hair fell over them, completely covering their faces just as the group walked by. Marshall felt Mary's tongue brush slightly against his lips. He was surprised by it; after all, the rest could be excused by the fact that they had to hide themselves. Only the two of them would ever be able to tell how intimate the kiss was.

Marshall registered the sound of the door closing and he stopped the kiss, though reluctantly. He could hear Mary breathing heavily. She slid down his body, her feet firmly planted on the floor again. They stood there for a moment, adrenaline and excitement making their pulses race.

_What are you two doing over there? Are the suspects in place? _The sound in their ears startled them both. Marshall answered.

"Suspects just entered the building on 3rd. Get ready to move."

_Confirmed. All agents, move in._

**ooOOoo**

They had dinner at a nice restaurant that was open late. The witness was locked up for the night, CIA detail on him. Marshall figured since they were all dressed up already, they might as well go out.

"Everyone is going to think that you hired me," Mary complained.

"It's only because they're jealous that I have the most beautiful woman in the room on my arm."

"I think I'm going to hurl."

"Can't you ever just take a compliment," Marshall asked her.

"Not if I can help it."

They ordered steak and champagne. Marshall was driving so he didn't have as much. That was probably why it was Mary that broached the subject of the alley first.

"What was going on with that kiss?"

"The one in the alley?" he asked.

"No, that other heated kiss we had tonight. Of course the one in the alley, Doofus."

Marshall had to smile. So she _had_ felt something when they kissed. "What about it? I was just trying to find a way to make us inconspicuous."

"And_ that's_ what you came up with?"

"I didn't see you thinking of anything better," he argued.

"That's not my fault."

"Why not?"

"Because there's not much that was better than that."

Marshall looked at her surprised, not believing what she had just said. "Mare-"

"I can't believe that I just _said_ that."

"Have you been watching chick flicks behind my back again?"

Mary looked around, nervous that someone had heard. "You promised that you would never tell anyone about that!"

Marshall laughed and played with his champagne glass. "I was just trying to protect you. It was just part of the job."

"Oh, so that's all I am now, huh, a job?" Her tone was playful but Marshall could hear what she wasn't saying.

"Please, Mary, you know you're…" _so much more than a job._ He shrugged, not knowing how to say it to her. Mary drank the last of her champagne.

"Now what? We've busted a major gang, made out in an alley, had a schwanky dinner and it's still only ten."

"We could go back to my place. I've got your favorite."

"_When Harry Met Sally_?" It was her guilty pleasure, a secret she had made Marshall take to his grave.

"What else?" He pulled out his wallet and handed his credit card to the waitress when she returned. Mary didn't argue. She had given up a long time ago to convince him to let her pay. Some things Marshall just wouldn't budge on. After he got his card back, they stood up to leave. "Mare?"

"It's Ok," she said. "I know."

"Know what?"

Mary stood close to him, not quite touching him but close enough that he could smell her. She leaned up slightly, she still had those incredibly tall shoes on, and pressed her lips to his. It was shorter than the last, but it was so much more intimate. There was no job, no reason for her to do it other than she wanted to.

"I know," she told him when she pulled away. "C'mon, I want to pick up some popcorn for the movie."

"You just had a huge steak for dinner and you want to eat popcorn?"

"That movie is not the same without a big bowl of popcorn. Besides, it's tradition. You don't want to mess with that kind of dogma."


End file.
